


I Won't Fuck With You

by ind1go_ink



Series: Fake AH Crew - Power Plays [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Brief character death, Explicit Language, F/M, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Mentions of immortality, Out of Body Experiences, Respawn, Violence, canon pairings - Freeform, gta 5 - Freeform, gta v - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:25:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3866953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ind1go_ink/pseuds/ind1go_ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Los Santos is a happy little city, full of happy people all living their happy lives. The mayor ensures it. But he’s not the one with the control.<br/>No, that would be Geoff. The bulldog with his teeth at the city’s throat.<br/>He’s not afraid to make the blood flow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't Fuck With You

**Author's Note:**

> I got into the whole GTA AU thing. So, of course I had to write something about it.

_Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift_

_The type that sticks around like something’s in your teeth?_

That was the song that was blaring in Michael’s head as he ran, ignoring the way his laboured breathing was stinging in his chest, rattling against his ribs. The way his legs were about to collapse beneath him made him push harder, clawing his way forward till he reached the mouth of an alleyway and ducked into it, skidding to a halt with a crash as he slammed into a dumpster, an oof of air leaving him as he crumpled up like a paper napkin. As he rolled around on the ground, pained wheezes left him.

Suddenly the song in his head changed track to something less well-known in the fog of exhaustion clouding his eyes.

_Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend_

_You crack the whip_

_Shape-shift and trick_

_The past again_

He’d been running for so long that it had become second nature. But he’d never counted on the fact that eventually he’d have a _home_. Much less friendships. Yet here he was, running for his indefinite life, fighting to protect people he couldn’t have cared less about five years ago.

You didn’t know them five years ago, his brain pointed out while also managing to point out that every nerve in his being was straining to the point of forcibly leaving his body.

He ignored that too, and pushed himself up, teeth clenched so tight that his jaw ached. He was just off the boulevard. He could make it.

The screech of sirens nearby said otherwise though, and as Michael willed himself to start running again, he let out a hiss at the sound of running footsteps. They sounded a hell of a lot more sure than his did, but he began to run anyway. There was no way he was giving up now.

They’d never let him go.

Even so, he drew the 9mm pistol from his belt, holding it limply, finger curled over the trigger. Any whisper of a cop and he’d go down kicking and screaming, putting as many holes in them as he could.

When the arm curled around his neck and attempted to haul him backwards, Michael almost pistol whipped the assailant, only relaxing when he heard a whisper in his ear; 'Stay quiet, stay low, I got you.'

It was Gavin.

They wormed their way through the innards of empty factories, underneath bustling apartment complexes. To Michael, in the unending gloom, it seemed to take hours. This was Gavin’s element; blueprints and weak points in locations, sewers and attics. He’d built an extensive network of tunnels beneath the city, from the train yard to the beachfront. All controlled by solely him, though he had a tenuous agreement with Geoff that Michael himself had garnered. It made escapes much easier.

'Mica’s ahead,' Gavin whispered when they eventually reached a well-lit concrete door embedded into a brick wall. The ‘back entrance’, as Ray would jokingly call it, was how they would escape if the police, or any other gang, managed to find their headquarters. Michael held up a thumb, clutching his side with a wheeze. His ribs had started to ache in a rather concerning way, with white-hot lances accompanying a deep seated ever-present throb, so he refrained from speaking.

Under certain circumstances, like this, the escape door could be used an an entrance. Gavin knocked thrice, paused, then knocked five times in quick succession, ending with a long, low whistle.

The door creaked open, and Mica peered out into the gloom, eyes narrowed.

'Yeah? Oh, it’s you. If this is about the rats, I told you-' She caught sight of Michael, pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded towards the interior. 'Get in here before you let the homeless people in.' She hissed, standing aside as Michael limped inside, a tired chuckle escaping him before he could wince at the sting of pain that followed. Gavin trailed in behind him, only briefly stopping to tell Mica how he’d found Michael. 'You _smell_ like a homeless person,' She commented once he’d finished his arm-flailing, highly exaggerated story. 'Do you ever shower?'

Michael heard the outraged gasp and limped away, lest he be dragged into their tiff. He had more pressing things to worry about. Like how he was going to explain to Geoff, or even Ryan, why he was so torn up and what had happened. More than anything, though, he wanted to sleep.

He knew he’d have no option, besides, the ache in his ribs was turning into a sharp distorted kind of a pain that had him swallowing thickly whenever he breathed. He made his way to the top floor of the office, his steps slow and heavy.

As he was about to enter the room, he paused, leaning heavily on the wall. Deep breaths, he told himself. He wasn’t going to pussy out now. He straightened up, ignoring the fresh stab of pain and pushed through the doors, stopping when he heard voices. The office itself was lavishly decorated, a high mahogany desk seated in front of wall to wall glass windows, leather couches spread across the main section, two sets of doors on either side leading to board rooms. Crystal ball lights lit the room with a soft peach glow that seemed all too comforting for a mob boss setting like the one Geoff had.

'-re is he?'

'Mica said he was in through the back door ten minutes ago.'

'Do you think he went to his room?'

'We’ll check.'

Michael started as Jack and Geoff walked out into the main section. They said nothing for a moment, Jack undoubtedly appraising the fresh state of injury Michael was in, Geoff probably analysing how much this would cost him, Michael in a delirious state of pain that had him sway in place, too tired to bother with drawing out the battle of wills.

'I ran into trouble -' He began.

'No shit,' Jack stepped forward, cell in hand. 'I’ll call up Lindsay and Meg, maybe they’ll have some extra supplies lying around.'

Michael winced at the name of his wife. His chances of surviving were dwindling into the distance as Geoff grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pushed him to a couch.

'What happened?' It was normal that Geoff was all business when it came to this kind of thing, but the agitated look in his eyes hit Michael in a hard way. He must be worse than he thought.

'Got jumped by some of the Vagos crew.' Michael smiled weakly, letting his hands fall away from his side. Sitting was helping to ease the fog from his mind. 'Was on a one-man raid.'

'Which raid?'

Jack was approaching now, with a stern look in his eyes, and Michael let his eyes close. Now for the bomb.

'Lindsay and Meg are on their way. They’ll be here in ten.'

'Get ‘em here in five. Get Ray and Ryan, clear a path.'

Geoff patted Michael’s sweat-slicked hair back. 'Don’t worry champ, salvation will be here soon. I’ll get Mica to look after you while we wait.'

Of course, Geoff was straight back to business.

It was funny to think that this was his salvation, though. He’d always seen his salvation as something that would save his soul from the multitude of sins he’d committed. But as he’d grown into the Achievement Hunter crew, been accepted as one of them, he’d realised they were his salvation. Operating solo in a city like Los Santos was risky business, and he’d almost been so far gone that he was one misplaced comment away from death. He figured now that it was what he’d wanted at the time. That death would have been his salvation.

Figures that now the last thing he wanted to do was die, and yet he could feel the energy slipping from him in waves. Ebbing and flowing out of him. Funny thing, death was...

A slap to the face brought him back, and as he blinked, very slowly, Mica’s face appeared above him, looking as scared as he’d ever seen her, which was hard to believe. But then the vision shifted, and he was looking down at her, looking down at himself.

 _What is this?_ He wondered bemusedly. _Jesus, I look like total shit!_

'Shit, shit, fuck, oh god.' Mica was muttering under her breath, fiddling with something that Michael couldn’t begin to guess the use of.

'Don’t you die on me, you asshole!'

_I’m fine… Hey, hey, I’m right here!_

'You’re not going to die on me, Michael.' She said resolutely. He heard a high-pitched whine, saw her press two white paddles to his chest, realised in a flash what it was and then he was slammed into consciousness, his breath leaving him in a rush as every sensation exploded with pain. Before he could react, Mica had grabbed him, and jabbed a needle into his arm. His whole body tightened at the unusual feeling of the intrusion into his muscle but seconds later he was relaxing, the pain dissipating from his head down so that he was left in a mildly drowsy state.

'Wha-'

'Oxycodone. Pain killer. It’s a small dose, so hopefully you won’t O.D.'

'... Oh…'

'Hang tight, I’ve got on the beeper that Lindsay is pulling into the drive.'

_… Shit …_

Once he’d finished being poked and prodded to test the extent of his injuries, and patched up, Lindsay took it upon herself to lock them in his room and berate him for being a “brain-dead idiot who can’t stop himself from doing the most moronic things in the history of mankind” - Michael, for the first time in awhile, could only listen as her wrath poured over him like warm bathwater. Not only was he hopped up on all kinds of painkillers, but he was happy to know that the extent of his damage wasn’t immediately life-threatening. He had been going into shock, granted, but he was _alive_. He was so relieved, that once Lindsay seemed to finish her tirade, he stood, with the help of crutches, and hugged her, planting none-too-gentle pecks on her cheeks.

'Are you trying to suck up to me, Michael Jones?'

He shook his head, sitting back down on his bed with a tired smile. 'Just happy I’m alive.'

'Well, I restocked your caps.' It was said grudgingly, but she sat next to him, running a hand through his damp hair. 'You have five now. But don’t go wasting them.'

'You’re awesome,' Michael muttered, leaning his head on her shoulder for a moment before propping his crutches up and lying back. 'And I promise I won’t fuck with the Vagos again. But I really need to sleep…'

'Yeah, sure.' Lindsay stood, pressing a kiss to his forehead before taking her leave.


End file.
